Yesterday I heard the loud voice of a child in the Clinic. It was a very loud, very insistent voice. Soon, a child entered our Development office. The child was a little girl. She interrupted a conversation I was having with the Donor Relations Coordinator. She appeared to be about five or six years old, and a stethoscope hung from her neck. One of the Clinic’s nurses, Debbie, was a few steps behind her. The nurse explained that the little girl was waiting for her grandmother, who had an appointment with one of our doctors.
“I need to listen to your heart,” the little girl said. She placed the end of the instrument on the chest of the other employee. She listened for a few seconds, seemed satisfied with the results, and left with the nurse to find her grandmother.
As she skipped down the hall, I heard her stop several other employees or patients. “I need to listen to your heart.”
A few minutes later, I was giving a tour of the Clinic to a potential volunteer. The child, who I’ll call “Carrie”, passed by us with her grandmother. Carrie approached the woman who was with me and insisted, “I need to listen to your heart.” The grandmother appeared anxious. She apologized and asked Carrie to continue walking down the hall. The child refused. Her voice was loud and she acted almost belligerent.
“I NEED to listen to her heart!”
After Carrie and her grandmother were gone, Debbie explained the situation in more detail. Carrie’s parents are drug addicts. She lives with her grandmother now because local authorities found her locked in a closet about a year ago. In addition to the trauma resulting from whatever abuse she’s suffered, Carrie is also mildly autistic. Debbie, the nurse, had tears in her eyes as she told the story of a small child whose parents treated her badly. Carrie is still terrified of being separated from people. Even a mild scolding is traumatic.
The child is not attending school because school district authorities told the grandmother that she was too disruptive to be in the classroom. No one at the school mentioned the possibility of special education classes. The grandmother is completely overwhelmed, stressed out, and has no idea what resources are available to help.
“I need to listen to her heart.”
Coincidentally – or not — Debbie has personal experience with autism. In addition, Debbie’s experience happens to be with the very same school district in which Carrie lives. Debbie wiped her eyes as she told me that she intends to check on available resources for Carrie and her grandmother. She wants to help this family navigate the educational and human services systems.
Carrie’s grandmother did not come to Good Samaritan Clinic to get help with her granddaughter. She came because she doesn’t have health insurance and needed to see a doctor. However, like many of our patients, she discovered that we do our best to treat the whole person. We just need to listen to their hearts.
Of the 680 patient visits to the Clinic during February, I know which one I’ll remember the most. Carrie is not one of our patients, but I think it’s safe to say that her visit will stand out for all of us. I’ll keep you posted on what happens with Carrie.
For more information about autism, look here.
